


Venom

by Nvos



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Asphyxiation, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nvos/pseuds/Nvos
Summary: Khada Jhin has dug his claws in Zed's mind. Zed has found his hands on his jugular.





	Venom

    “The poison has passed from my lips to my hands.”

  
    Whether or not Zed has said anything is nothing measured of what lies ahead of Jhin— _poison_ is hardly a far-flung threat. It’s a promise.

  
    In, again. For now, his lungs hold, strung around a rudimentary pocket that uncoils slowly and decompresses.

  
    Zed’s hands start to squeeze.

  
    Finally, blue splotches find their way onto his cheeks and Jhin is the first to sputter. _Out, again._ Like removing the sole piece responsible for an entire tower, it comes crashing down with a speed such that Jhin can barely see up from down until the pressure lightens, the heavens parting wide.

  
    “Not this tight,” his voice cracks. “You’ll kill me.”

  
     _Isn’t that what you want?_ Shame that there’s not enough air to let a gasp rattle let alone a laugh, and more shame heaped that Jhin at this moment would not be so willing to walk that tightrope should there have been.

  
    His eyes drift to Zed, fingers fast around neck going nowhere. They both know he isn’t finished yet; maybe the irony of that statement, on the other hand, goes unshared.

  
     _Hum…_ Zed’s eyes are burning and Jhin may be so trying as to imagine plumes of smoke wafting off. There’s not a great deal of light– solitary candles are opposite to a door and faraway from the futon they’re clambered over with Jhin’s shoulderblades hitting an uncomfortable angle to the floor. Against the silence there is a mossy, wet lisp in the air, the type that lingers on the lips and slinks off the forehead, time at all refusing to be kept.

  
     _I love that determined look you have,_ Jhin remembers thinking in this not-time. _So powerful. So grave. So sure and yet here we are, animals in a pen and you’re strangling me._

  
    “Zed,” he starts. “Go on. Keep going.”

  
    Even in the darkness the moonlight frames the corners of Jhin’s crooked smile. “Or are you going to deny yourself when you’ve come this far?”

  
     _Thump._ A fire ignites on the skin below his chest, his hand a vise on a scrap of the futon. _Resume._ Time returns and so does the rhythm. In, again. _Out, again._ A pocket of air becomes a distant memory. In. Out. In. Out. His vision swims, Zed having his _request_ of leavening tightness, and, at last, there is a thought that he very well might die.

  
    All told, it would have made for a rather risque canvas.

  
    Just as Jhin’s vision throws black, it’s all there again, punctuated by new warmth crashing down between his legs. Familiar. He allows himself to wheeze and Zed allows himself the ability to disembark, motions customary and far too practiced. At this all Jhin can hear are the pounding of blood in his ears and the quickened pace of his own heart, the awful testament to a mortality that nearly crossed the threshold. He lifts his gaze and Zed’s face has pulled away and out of sight. He must be deciding whether to stay or to leave— even now, entering Zed’s temple is not as simple as a self-given _invitation_.

  
    Making a choice in part of exhaustion and the dull pain wisping around his jugular, Jhin exhales, lying askew and resting his head aside a pillow.

  
    “Maybe you are poison, after all.”


End file.
